


To Steal A Wallet (And A Heart)

by beastie_beauty



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastie_beauty/pseuds/beastie_beauty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even thieves need to spice up their lives with a bet from time to time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Steal A Wallet (And A Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> “flirted with the other to steal their wallet" AU

 Natasha will never understand why Clint thinks bars are one of the best places for people like them to work. Of course, there are always many people - potential targets - but it also makes it harder not to be seen. Because, as easy as it is to hide in the crowds of drunks, bartenders are always watching (or at least most of the time) their clients’ glasses so nobody will put anything in them. It makes the job harder, and even if Natasha likes a challenge, she doesn’t enjoy the idea of being caught red-handed and sent to jail. Not that she would ever get caught, she is too good for that.

 

 “Spotted someone interesting yet?” Clint asks, leaning a little closer to her.

 

 She lets out a small, discreet sigh and gazes around them quickly. From the table they are sitting at, Natasha can see most of the bar and its population. It is full of young adults dressed to impress more than anything. Tight dresses made of silky materials, and well-tailored suits, and expensive shiny shoes. She can spot a few people dressed a bit more casually among the clients as well. She barely looks at the people dancing, or rather grinding against one another like animals in heat; approaching them isn’t even an option.

 

 “No,” she answers simply before taking a sip of her vodka - Clint always teases her about Russians drinking vodka being too cliché but she doesn’t care. “Their egos are bigger than their wallets.”

 

 “Yeah, probably didn’t choose the best bar for the job…”

 

 Natasha nods and opens her mouth, ready to criticize Clint’s choice, but closes it immediately. Strawberry blonde at the bar. What seems to be her boyfriend walking away with another girl. So, not boyfriend, Natasha guesses. The woman looks lonely now, staring down at her phone. Good. Natasha smirks and nudges Clint’s elbow with her own.

 

 “Expensive dress, what looks like an expensive drink. Big wallet. Also too straight for you.”

 

 She groans and nearly punches Clint's shoulder. He should know by now that she can't stand when people imply that she is incapable of doing something, especially when they are working. Natasha cracks her knuckles under Clint's worried stare and stands up.

 

 "If I get the wallet, I keep the content."

 

 "If you don't, I get the content of the next one you get."

 

 They shake hands and Natasha walks away. She makes sure that people see her, stare at her as she crosses the room, going straight through the crowd of people, pushing with her shoulders when they try to make her dance with them, stepping on the toes of the men who try to grab her by the hip. She'd twist their arm and break their wrist but she'd probably be kicked out of the bar.

 

 Natasha sits down on the stool the next to the strawberry blonde, who doesn't seem to even notice her, eyes glued on the bright screen of her phone. She clears her throat, making the older woman jump in her seat.

 

 "Hi," Natasha says with a warm smile.

 

 "Hi," the woman repeats, her voice hesitant but not shaky.

 

 "I'm Natalie."

 

 The woman blinks in confusion, her mouth slightly agape. She has obviously never been hit on by another woman before, and it only makes the challenge more interesting, even if more complicated. But she refuses to lose a bet to Clint.

 

 "Pepper," she says after a long moment of silence.

 

 Natasha turns a little on the stool so her knee touches Pepper's. There is a blush spreading on Pepper's skin, from her neck to her cheeks - Natasha can't help thinking that it's adorable, as well as a sign that it might not be that complicated to steal her wallet.

 

 "May I offer you a drink, Pepper?"

 

 "I already have one," she answers, raising her half-empty glass. Bourbon? Natasha wonders.

 

 "Would you mind the company terribly?"

 

 The woman shakes her head and puts her phone in her handbag - Burberry? Now Natasha knows exactly what she's looking for.

 

 "Oh no," Pepper answers, distractedly glancing at the dancefloor, at the man who just left with a girl. "My best friend just abandoned me for a younger, prettier version."

 

 Natasha doesn't look away, she just keeps staring at Pepper's face - it's pretty, both sharp angles and soft curves, freckle-covered skin, bright blue eyes. Natasha almost feels bad for seducing her only to take her wallet. Maybe she'll just take the credit cards, it might take more time than just walking away with the wallet but it would be less trouble for Pepper. Why does she even care?

 

 She doesn't care, she decides.

 

 "There's no way any woman in this bar is prettier than you."

 

 The older woman blinks and her blush deepens, the shade of red closer to Natasha's hair than to Pepper's. Natasha chuckles at the sight.

 

 "Aren't you used to compliments?" she asks, leaning in even closer to her prey.

 

 "I'm afraid I don't receive enough to get used to them," Pepper smiles slightly, tilts her head down to hide her embarrassment - embarrassment of her age, Natasha guesses, like most women nearing their forties and who suddenly start doubting their beauty because of a few wrinkles. "Except if you count my best friend telling me how much better I am at being a CEO than he has ever been."

 

 Natasha decides it is smarter to stay silent for a moment, to let Pepper the time to think about her little personal crisis. Just a moment, of course, before she can resume her "attack". Hadn't Natasha been trained to notice the slightest movement or change in mood, she wouldn't have seen Pepper glancing down her body, just a bit too long at her cleavage to be accidental. Easy.

 

 "Would you like to go somewhere quieter?" Natasha asks as she puts a hand on Pepper's knee, caressing it with her thumb through the thick fabric of her skirt.

 

 Pepper's hand clenches on her handbag. If she feels as nervous as she looks, getting her out of the bar will not be an easy task. Natasha bites down on her lip and looks up at the woman through thick lashes, hiking her hand slightly higher on Pepper's thigh.

 

 "Alright. Let's get some fresh air!" Pepper squeaks, standing up abruptly.

 

 That's a brusque change Natasha didn't expect, but she isn't going to complain. She stands up as well, suddenly all too aware of the height difference. Natasha hates tall people, they make her feel even shorter than she actually is.

 

* * *

 

 Getting out of a crowded bar is far from being an easy task. It's Pepper who leads the way out, holding tightly on one of Natasha's hands. Outside, the air is cold more than refreshing and a shiver runs through Natasha's body. But she ignores it as her eyes fall on Pepper's face again. Her gaze drifts, though. There's a man - large but not as menacing as he probably thinks he is, wearing a nice suit - approaching.

 

 "Ms. Potts-"

 

 Natasha doesn't wait, grabs the hand he's extending toward Pepper's arm, yanks at it and pushes him face first against the closest wall.

 

 "Oh my God!"

 

 Natasha glances above her shoulder; Pepper looks terrified more than simply surprised or shocked, so Natasha lets go of his hand and steps back to let the man breath. She didn't expect Pepper to rush to the man's side.

 

 "Are you alright, Happy?"

 

 Happy?

 

 "Yes, yes. I just... didn't see her," the man says, hesitantly looking at Natasha, who only smirks - men and their ego don't handle well being beaten by a woman half their size, it's always amusing. "Should I drive you home now or should we wait for Mr. Stark?"

 

 "Tony should be here in a moment. You'll drive him home. Only him."

 

 "What about you, Ms. Potts?"

 

 "We're in New York, Happy, I will find a taxi."

 

 Her voice is authoritative and doesn't leave any room for arguments. The man - Happy? - nods and walks away, still visibly shaken by the encounter with the wall.

 

 "You have a driver?" Natasha asks when Pepper finally turns to face her again.

 

 "Happy is my friend's chauffeur," Pepper pauses and looks down at her shoes then back up. "It was quite impressive."

 

 Natasha steps into Pepper's personal space again and grabs her hand. She doesn't want to force herself onto the older woman, won't kiss her until she has clear approval - consent, is the word, really, because Pepper doesn't look against the idea at all. Heavy lidded eyes occasionally glancing down at her lips, sharps breaths and warm, flushed skin. Natasha knows what it means. She can feel the hand hesitantly reaching for the small of her back, so she guides it, slightly lower, smirking at the blush on Pepper's cheeks.

 

 Natasha can't reach Pepper's lips and feels like cursing everything; her high heels for making it impossible to stand on the tip of her toes, Clint for making her wear them, even herself for being so short. The taller woman leans down and presses her lips to Natasha's - just a second or two. A man a few steps away from them wolf-whistles. Stupid fuckboy.

 

 "I was thinking that we could go to my apartment," Pepper whispers. "To end this night in a better way than it started."

 

* * *

 

 Natasha doesn't even need to open her eyes to register the fact she isn't waking up in her bed. The mattress is too soft, the sheets feel too silky. How many pillows is her head resting on? She sits up and rubs her eyes. Floor-to-ceiling windows are definitely not a good idea for a bedroom, and neither are white walls; the light's is blindening. Not the best way to be woken up. Clint would probably groan all the way to the kitchen and only stop after a first sip of coffee. Clint. Natasha lets out a content sigh. This room smells nothing like their apartment, no sweat, no coffee grinds, no burnt food. It smells fresh, almost to the point of being overwhelming.

 

 The body laying next to her shifts. Pepper is sleeping soundly. A moan escapes her lips, making Natasha smirk; she's heard that little noise a lot the night before.

 

 Natasha slips out of the bed, grabs her underwear and exits the room. She finds her dress on the couch and her bra under the coffee table- Ah, no. Definitely not her bra. Under the couch? How it land there? She doesn't have much more time.

 

 Pepper's handbag is on the kitchen isle. She fishes the wallet out of it and stares at it a moment.

 

 "Get a grip, Romanoff."

 

 Once she's dressed again, Natasha shoves the wallet in her own bag. She doesn't put on her shoes, as high heels on wooden floor can a dangerous thing when you're trying to get out of an apartment without being noticed.

 

* * *

 

 "I can't believe you stole the wallet."

 

 Natasha glares at Clint, who shrugs and fills his cup with coffee for the third time this morning. He really needs to do something about the caffeine addiction.

 

 "Well, I can believe that you did steal the wallet," he adds under his best friend's murderous eyes. "But the fact you sexed her, that's unbelievably impressive."

 

 Natasha rolls her eyes and punches Clint in the shoulder. He doesn't even flinch anymore, but she still hits him when he says something stupid, just so he knows how ridiculous he is - it's useless now, but neither of them cares enough to point it out and stop the old habit.

 

 "You lost the bet, Barton. You owe me a wallet."

 

 "I'll get you one today, promise. Let's go shopping?"

 

 Oh, how Natasha loves Clint's definition of going shopping. Paying for things you don't even need with the money you just stole from some arrogant idiot is one of the best feelings ever. All too satisfying. So of course something has to go badly in the middle of their shopping trip.

 

 "Nat, isn't that your favorite meal?"

 

 Natasha frowns, confused by the question until she turns to look in the same direction as Clint. There's a woman sitting at one of the small round tables in front of a coffee shop. Natasha takes in the long strawberry blonde hair, the bright eyes, red lips, freckled skin and the business looking outfit - white dress and blazer.

 

 Pepper.

 

 Virginia Potts.

 

 That's what her ID says.

 

 Clint elbows her arm but she ignores him. Pepper just looked up from the paper cup she is playing with and is now staring at her, eyebrows raising, eyes widening.

 

 "We need to leave!" Natasha exclaims, grabbing Clint's arm, forcing him to turn around.

 

 "She already saw us, it's too late."

 

 Oh, Natasha knows. But she has this unreasonable hope that if they start walking immediately, they still have a chance to escape. Being (legitimately) accused of theft in the middle of a mall full of people isn't something she wishes to happen.

 

 "Natalie!"

 

 "Natalie?" Clint repeats.

 

 They both stop abruptly. Clint pushes Natasha closer to the older woman and flees after whispering something about people needing to sort out their own problems by themselves.

 

 "Pepper! What a pleasure to see you again!"

 

 Natasha has years spent trying to survive in the streets before meeting Clint to thank for her ability to sound genuinely happy and excited.

 

 "Is it?" Pepper asks, an eyebrow arched. "I was under the impression that after leaving my apartment with only a note saying 'Thank you for this great night' and stealing my wallet you wouldn't want to ever see me again."

 

 She doesn't even think about denying - it's too late for that.

 

 "Am I in trouble?"

 

 "How about a date tonight? You pay, of course. We'll discuss my wallet then."


End file.
